


SV: Origins

by Lostlock



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Chaste, First Meeting, Gen, M/M, Origin Story, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostlock/pseuds/Lostlock
Summary: "Passable?" Dinesh scoffed. "He thinks that code is 'passable'? What a prick that guy is. I bet he couldn’t code his way out of a flappy-bird game."We know Dinesh and Gilfoyle knew one another before the HH, and we know Carla was around for that part of their history. This is that story.Dinesh and Gilfoyle met at a company called HelioFX, about eight months before moving in to the Hacker Hostel. Their interactions were fraught with animosity from the start.
Relationships: Dinesh Chugtai/Bertram Gilfoyle
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	SV: Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know next-to nothing about tech, so don't take the specs too seriously :)

It was only his second day at HelioFX, but Dinesh was feeling confident. He knew he had blown away the CTO with his experience in Java and the demo code he had easily thrown together over a weekend as part of his second-stage interview. 

He grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchenette in the small office and started toward his desk. He was at least 20 minutes early, but there were already five guys huddled around his monitor.

“What’s going on, guys?” he asked as he approached, trying to sound more casual than he felt. If he was being pranked, it wouldn’t be the first time… but it would certainly be a record for the earliest it had ever happened on a new job.

“This is the guy who wrote it,” one said as they turned to face him. Dinesh recognized him as Toby, but couldn’t remember the others. “This is Dinesh.”

The one sitting in Dinesh’s chair turned around and studied him from behind black-framed glasses. Dinesh didn’t recognize him from his tour the day before, but that wasn’t too odd. Programmers generally kept to themselves.

“You wrote this code?” he asked in a flat monotone. 

Dinesh dared a small, proud smile. Maybe he wasn’t being pranked, after all.

“Yes,” he said. 

The other man turned back to the screen briefly before standing and looking Dinesh up and down once more.

“Passable,” he said as he brushed past.

The other men smiled at one another.

“That’s Gilfoyle,” the one called Toby said. “He hates everything. That was probably high praise.” 

They all dispersed, laughing, and Dinesh was left mystified. Was that this weird company’s attempt at a prank?

_ Passable? _ he scoffed. _He thinks that code is "passable"?_ _ What a prick that guy is. I bet he couldn’t code his way out of a flappy-bird game _ . 

He knew better–that code was  _ almost _ the best he’d ever written, and he was one of the best Java coders he knew–but he also thrived on praise and genuine acknowledgement of his achievements, and the comment ate at him the rest of the day. And the following day. And the day after that. 

Not wanting to rock the boat at a new job, he steered clear of Gilfoyle the rest of the week and only nodded politely when they were in proximity of one another. Gilfoyle, meanwhile, did little to indicate he was even aware of Dinesh’s presence in those moments.

“Hey new guy,” said Carla on Friday from across the desk they shared. She was his favorite of the coders he’d met at HelioFX– _ Not just because she’s a girl _ , he thought.  _ A cute girl _ . “Party at Toby’s tonight. You going?”

“Oh, uhm…” he hesitated, “I’ll have to check my–” 

Carla rolled her eyes. “I know you’re free, dude. No one here has a life.” She handed him a sticky note. “Here’s the address. Partners welcome, if you have…” she trailed off. “Anyway, see you there.”

“Oh, no, I–” Did he want her to think he was single and available, or cool and desirable enough to already have a girlfriend? Carla was back to work before he was able to finish the thought. “Cool, thanks,” he said finally.

\--

Carla hadn’t told him what time to show up, so Dinesh opted for 8:30. The party was in full swing, which for a small group of nearly-broke tech people was fairly underwhelming. A few guys were playing Call of Duty; several were on the back porch smoking weed and cigarettes; but most were standing in the kitchen drinking beers around bowls of chips.

Dinesh found his way to the group of people in the kitchen, where Toby greeted him.

“Eyy, new guy, you made it! I think that’s all our new people!”

“Hey, man!” Dinesh said through a veil of his own anxiety.  _ All the new people? _ He was the only one getting called “new guy.” Who were the other new people? 

He stood awkwardly with a beer in his hand, trying to stay close to Carla in a not-creepy way. She had been cordial to him during his first week–by no means  _ friendly _ –but among programmers that went a long way. 

“Hey, Carla,” he said quietly when he saw everyone else was engrossed in a different conversation. “Toby said ‘all the new people’... who all is new?”

“Oh, there’s you and Kyle and… oh, Gilfoyle,” she said.  _ Gilfoyle?! _

“Wait, Gilfoyle is new?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I guess he and Kyle started the day before you did. Feels like they’ve worked with us forever.” She shrugged.

“Why am I ‘new guy?!’”

“I dunno,” she said. “You’re the newest guy?”

She was interrupted by Toby yelling.

“Hey, new guy! Shots!”

Dinesh groaned internally. Toby was triumphantly holding up a bottle of tequila and waving him over, the rest of the team watching on and cheering weakly.

Tequila was not Dinesh’s drink of choice, and he was not eager to heavily imbibe in front of brand-new coworkers, but he was also in danger of being branded “new guy” for life. He didn’t have many good friends, as it was. 

He hung back and laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head. “Nah, I shouldn’t.” 

But Toby had already poured his shot and was holding it out to him. He shuffled forward awkwardly, catching Gilfoyle’s eyes from the corner of the room as he did.  _ Prick _ , he thought as he took the shot glass from Toby, downed it quickly, and tried to turn back to the spot he’d claimed as his.

“Nooo, come on, man! Shots!”

Dinesh gritted his teeth.  _ Fucking Toby _ . He ended up doing three more shots before the crowd lost interest and migrated to the living room, where Dinesh laughed awkwardly through as many inside jokes about past staff retreats as he could before his vision blurred and the need for fresh air overtook him.

Out on the porch, he pushed past the clouds of smoke and flopped ungracefully onto an empty bench. 

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. The walk outside had made him realize he was more drunk than he thought. He fished out his phone and squinted at the screen, looking for the Lyft app.

“Wow, you really can’t hold your liquor,” came a voice above him.

Dinesh looked up at the dark figure. “Gilfoyle. What do you want?” Knowing he no longer needed to make nice with Gilfoyle, plus the alcohol in his blood, made him feel bold.

“Here,” Gilfoyle said, holding out a beer. 

“Fuck off, I don’t want a drink.”

“It’s full of water, asshole. So you don’t look like more of a pussy than you already are.”

“Seriously, fuck you. I didn’t come here to do a fucking hazing ritual,” he snapped, but took the bottle from Gilfoyle. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Why didn’t they make you do shots, anyway?”

“Two reasons. One, you appear to be a person who is what one might call easily fuck-with-able. It’s like you’ve written ‘Please fuck with me’ on the front of every shirt you own. Your name probably translates to “one who is easily fucked with” in Hindi. Your ability to be fucked with knows no bounds. I, on the other hand, am what one might call un-fuck-with-able.”

“Jesus Christ, dude,” said Dinesh, taken aback by Gilfoyle’s casual hostility. “Fuck off.”

“And two,” Gilfoyle paused. “Seniority.” He smirked down at Dinesh.   
  
“Are you fucking kidding m–” Dinesh’s words were cut off by his sudden need to vomit, which he managed to do into a large potted plant sitting next to him. When he recovered, Gilfoyle was sitting next to him on the bench. 

“Dude, you’re horrible. Leave me alone,” Dinesh said. He just wanted to be home and on his way to forgetting this evening. Getting sick had cleared his head a bit, and he resumed his attempt to get a Lyft. 

Gilfoyle said nothing. They sat in silence for a few moments, Dinesh unable to focus on his phone enough to summon a ride.

“ _ Passable?! _ ” he said finally.

Gilfoyle smirked again. “Damn, I really got under your skin, huh, new guy?”

“What was ‘passable’ about that to you? You know that’s the best code you’ve ever seen.”

“My dead grandmother could write better code.”

“Bullshit. You just don’t want to admit someone could be better at something than you.”

“And you just want to chortle my balls,” returned Gilfoyle.

“What? What does that even mean?” After receiving no answer, Dinesh asked, “What  _ do _ you do at HelioFX, anyway?”

Gilfoyle looked over at him.

“I designed the mobile RIB components.”

_ Shit _ , thought Dinesh. That was a huge project, and it was potentially going to quadruple HelioFX’s output over the next two years.

“You manage to get that ride?” asked Gilfoyle after a minute of Dinesh staring off absentmindedly.

“Oh, fuck.” He found the app and requested the car, then had a bleak realization. “I have to go back out through all those people,” he groaned.

“I have a plan,” said Gilfoyle, downing the last of his beer. 

Once inside, Gilfoyle told Dinesh to put an arm around his shoulders.   


“Fuck off, I can walk on my own,” Dinesh said. Then, to his own horror, he hiccupped. Gilfoyle cracked a wry smile.

“Sure you can, new guy.” 

Dinesh rolled his eyes and put an arm out. They walked into the living room and toward the front door, but didn’t get out before Toby yelled after them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where you guys going? We were just going to play Dominion!”

“New guy thought he could shotgun four more beers and ended up puking all over your flowers. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t ruin any more shit,” answered Gilfoyle. 

Dinesh glared at him, his eyes shooting daggers. “What the fuck, man?” he hissed, then hiccupped again. The guys in the living room laughed loudly as they got out the door.

“What the fuck!” Dinesh said again, with another hiccup.

“Calm your ass down. Now you’re a hero for drinking more and I’m a hero for taking you home. Win-win.”

“That’s not exactly the legacy I want, douchebag!” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how easy it is to fuck with you.”

The car pulled up and Dinesh got in, Gilfoyle following.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I did you a favor, fuckface. I got you out of there. Now you get to pay for my ride home so I don’t have to stay at that trainwreck of a party either.”

Dinesh hiccupped. Gilfoyle smirked at him.

\--

Dinesh stayed at HelioFX another eight months–three months longer than he should have, if he was being honest about when he started to anticipate the company’s demise. It had grown too fast, too soon, too optimistically. Their company retreats, perks, and pseudo-philanthropic efforts intended to “boost ROI” and “capitalize on the company’s internal synergy,” ate up hundreds of thousands of dollars each month. Everything was designed to keep employees happy and collaborative, but the lower the company sank, the more competitive and somber the employees became.

Low morale wasn’t exactly conducive to making friends, so Dinesh was no closer to a social life than when he’d joined the company. Aside from the inane team-building activities and weak coffee, the only constant in life at HelioFX was Gilfoyle’s constant barrage of insults. After eight months, it was routine, comfortable. And he was getting better at comebacks, after learning to rely on the old standbys he had used in adolescence with his cousins. 

The more they fought with one another, the harder HR tried to make their working relationship harmonious, which only gave them more opportunities to sharpen their blades. They could spend the entire duration of team events verbally sparring with one another under their breath, though they were united in viewing the events as colossal wastes of time. After a while, coworkers stopped worrying about the tension created by such outward vitriol and began to simply roll their eyes in exhaustion. 

But as normal as this routine had become, Dinesh didn’t think he would miss it. Gilfoyle wasn’t exactly an enemy, but he was a… distraction. It was exhausting keeping up with his jabs and being on high alert at all times to anticipate his whereabouts and field the next onslaught. And while it was fun at times, a part of him felt sure it should have run its course by now. Plus, he’d had more than one  _ troubling _ dream involving Gilfoyle, and he was eager to be rid of those.

When the time came to move on from HelioFX, several other things in Dinesh’s life had reached a breaking point. He needed a new way to make money, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of working at another Microsoft-wannabe tech company. His living situation was untenable without the income he’d been receiving. He could tell the woman he’d been seeing was about to break up with him, which was probably for the best. And he desperately wanted to make his own app. 

Ten days after leaving HelioFX, he was moving the last of his boxes into the Hacker Hostel, which he’d found on the housing bulletin board at HelioFX: a type of co-op living arrangement where he could stay for a fraction of his current rent, design his app, and be free of the corporate bullshit that seemed to permeate every corner of Silicon Valley. 

It was easily the weirdest interview of his life, pitching his app to Erlich in exchange for rent, but he was in. He’d only met a couple of the other housemates: a Chinese guy named Jian-Yang and a guy named Nelson Bighetti, who was called Big Head. Big Head was working on a cringeworthy app designed to direct the user to nearby erect nipples. It was unclear what Jian-Yang was working on, or whether he was even residing at the Hacker Hostel for the purposes of developing an app. 

Dinesh was just glad to get away from his last living situation, where he had to contend with a drummer in a metal band and a woman with a staring problem who insisted her glass eye was the first to be bionically enhanced for X-ray vision. 

He spent most of his first day in his room unpacking, but emerged that evening when Erlich yelled at him to come out for “family time.” 

Erlich made a production of introducing “the newest resident of Ye Olde Hacker Hostel and Merry Incubator of Yore, Dinesh,” and then pointed at the lanky guy with curly hair sitting at the table.

“This is Richard. He’s working on an app he assures me will be the Google of music.”

Richard waved modestly and started to say he hoped it would, but he had a lot of work to do on it, and anyway the market was such that–

Ignoring Richard, Erlich pointed to the far corner of the room, where another man had been sitting with his back to Dinesh. He had long hair and was wearing a dark blue plaid flannel shirt.

“And finally, our second-newest resident. He just moved in yesterday. This is Bertram G–”

“Mo. ther. fucker,” said Dinesh as Gilfoyle turned to face him, wearing a small satisfied smirk.

“Hey, new guy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I was/am working on another Dinfoyle fic and realized I needed an origin story to refer to. So I wrote this one! :D We know Dinesh and Gilfoyle knew one another before the HH, and we know Carla was around for that part of their history. We also know Dinesh worked at Periscope, but I don't think Gilfoyle did–hence the [really dumb] made-up company where they both worked together. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
